


Seven Years

by Beth_Penrose



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Penrose/pseuds/Beth_Penrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the finale, Amanda's locked up for good and Nikita's able to move on with her life. Except that now Amanda has information that the government wants. Which means Nikita may have to do something she really doesn't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Two women faced each other. One of them was standing, forced into a rigid, uncomfortable position by metal braces around limbs, torso, and neck. The other looked barely more comfortable, sitting so straight her back barely grazed the seatback of the metal chair she was perching on. She gripped the edges of the chair, feeling the rough edges dig into her palms. It stung, but it was better than having to think about her current situation. 

_"Michael, I can’t do this.”_  
_“Then don’t.”_  
_“Be realistic. You know that’s not an option.”_  
_“I am being realistic. The reality is you’ve fought enough. Let the government figure out their own problems. They’ll get the information.”_  
_“No they won’t. I’ve told you what she’s been through. If she can survive that, there’s no way they can make her talk. Not without giving her what she wants.”_  
_“What she wants isn’t rational, it doesn’t make sense. And with Amanda that’s dangerous.”_  
_“Well, do you have a better idea?”_

Finally Nikita unclenches her hands. The chair had left red welts in the palms of them, and she presses them against her black slacks. “Okay, Helen, you’ve got me here. What is it you want? Oh, and make it quick,” She added, checking her watch. “You’ve got 54 minutes.”  
“That’s not my name, first of all.” Even though the woman was restrained, even though her hair was unkempt and dark bruises under her eyes was the only makeup she wore, she still looked remarkably poised, still an assessing teacher.  
“Down here it is,” Nikita retorted, indicating the barren room. “Down here it’s your turn to be what I make of you. And all I see is an angry, hurt little girl who just lost again.”  
“I prefer to think of it more as a compromise. I may be stuck down here for the rest of my life, Nikita, but you’re stuck visiting me. That’s the price of victory.”

_“Ms. Mears-“_  
_“Actually it’s Mrs. Bishop now.” Nikita twisted the ring on her finger, still holding the phone with one hand._  
_“Yes, of course. Congratulations.”_  
_“Thank you. I take it this isn’t a social call, though. Is there something I can help you with, Senator?”_  
_“Actually, yes.” Nikita fought the urge to hang up the phone. They had said they were out. They had their pardons. Couldn’t they find another agent?_  
_“What is it?”_  
_“It’s Amanda.”_  
_Just hearing the voice was enough to make the blood drain from Nikita’s face. But when she spoke she was careful to keep her voice light. “What about her? Don’t tell me she’s giving you trouble from prison.”_  
_“Actually, she’s giving us information. Specifically, information about Division. And the black boxes.”_  
“The black boxes were destroyed.”  
_“That’s what we thought, too.”_  
_“What you thought? Senator, what are you talking about?”_  
_“There are more. A completely new series of boxes Amanda collected herself.”_  
_“No. We collected all of Divisions hits. We would have known if there were any unaccounted for.”_  
_“Division as you know it, maybe. But in the 70s, there was another Division which sprung up during the Cold War after Vietnam. ”_  
_“How do you know she’s telling the truth?”_  
_“The story checks out. There are agents of other Divisions still out there. Percy was one of them.”_  
_“Percy worked for an old Division?”_  
_“How do you think he knew how to build yours? He knew the pattern.”_  
_“Where are the boxes, then?”_  
_“That’s why we’re calling you. She agreed to tell us the location of the boxes on one condition.”_  
_“Let me guess. She wants my head on a silver platter.”_  
_“Mrs. Bishop, if she had, we wouldn’t be talking.”_  
_“Well that’s reassuring. What did she want?”_  
_“She wanted to make an arrangement. There are seven black boxes, just like the other ones. She agreed to give the location on one box every year, provided…” The voice on the other end of the line trailed off and Nikita sensed the worst._  
_“Provided what?”_  
_“Provided that you agree to meet with her. Just to talk, she said. One hour, every year, after which she’ll give you the location of one of the boxes.”_  
_“Why would she want that?”_  
_“We’re not sure. Maybe she figured it was the most she could leverage. Or maybe she has some sort of hidden agenda. But if anyone can figure it out, we have the confidence that you can.”_  
_Nikita sighed, breathing in deeply. “While I’m flattered, Senator, I’m going to have to think about it. I assume I can reach you at this number?”_  
_“That’s correct. But please don’t take too long. This is important.”_  
_As soon as she heard the click on the other end of the line, Nikita threw her phone across the room, screaming into the empty apartment._

“So, is there a purpose to this, or did I make this trip just to talk about compromise?”  
“Are you afraid I’m going to waste your time, Nikita? Because I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”  
“Oh I know you will, if you want to see me again. And again. But if I’m stuck here for the next,” she paused, checking her watch again, “51 minutes, we might as well do more than stare at the walls. My guess is you’ll be doing a lot of that in the future.”  
“Fine, let’s talk. You have a ring on your finger. How was the wedding?”  
“There wasn’t one. We eloped.”  
“Sounds romantic. Vegas?”  
“The Bahamas.”  
“Tropical. Then again you always had expressed a desire to go somewhere warm. A girl from Detroit, I suppose… Is that where you’re living?”  
“For now.”  
“See, now that’s interesting.”  
“What?”  
“Well it’s just that you’ve been on the run your whole life, and even now you don’t know how to stop.”  
“God, does the psychology thing ever turn off?”  
“I’m simply observing what’s in front of me, Nikita.”  
“Well, observe this,” snapped Nikita, standing up suddenly so that her chair toppled over. She spun angrily and strode out of the room. The door closed with a slam behind her. Outside the door she paced angrily. She willed her feet to take her away from this place, out of the building, into the arms of her husband, her rock. But instead they kept wearing a circle into the basement floor. After a minute she managed to stop, leaning against the wall. She wanted nothing more than to leave this place and get out of these winding, dull metal hallways that reminded her too much of Division. She had finally thought she was free from that place, but here she was in another one that looked exactly the same, and Amanda was still controlling her. Nikita’s hands gripped tightly into fists and her wedding ring dug into her skin. The sensation of it reminded her of Michael waiting at home for her. It reminded her that she had gotten out, that she was the victor, and that she was here because she chose to be. And that knowledge that she was in control gave her the willpower that she needed to turn around and enter the room again. Amanda’s eyes were glued on the front door, as if she knew that Nikita would be back. She probably did. Without a word Nikita righted her chair and sat back down. “Continue.”  
“Fine, but I get back the time that you spent having your little temper tantrum.”  
“Continue,” Nikita replied with a voice as cold and sterile as steel. “Tell me more about Percy and this Old Division. Clearly you know some things that you never told the recruits, so, what’s the story?”  
“The story of Old Division? Well, first off they weren’t called that. They called themselves simply The Dark. A bit dramatic, I have to admit. But what would you expect of a group of fifty young men recruited straight out of the war? Percy was one of the original recruits, and his ambition drove him straight to the top of their ragtag group. Of course, The Dark never became a particularly big deal, just a small deal running hits into the USSR- and any other enemies- on the government’s dime. And after only a decade it was shut down. Fortunately for me, that was long enough to collect all kinds of dirt and document it for years to come.”  
“Right. So that you could use it today, to talk to me. Why?”  
“Why would I want to talk to you, the one woman who managed to bring me down? I’m sure even you can figure that out.”  
“So all this is is a stab at revenge? Trying to capture me down here with you?” Nikita laughed derisively. “You’ve hit a whole new low.”  
“Nikita-”  
“No, you listen,” She declared, rising angrily. “I spent seven years living in fear of you. You and Percy, you kept me in that dark hole and I never thought I would get out. Well I did and now I’m living in the sun. I lived in spite of you. I won. After this I’m going to go home to my husband and someday to our children. My life is going to go on and evolve and you’re still going to be stuck here, rotting for the rest of your life. An hour a year? That’s nothing compared to what you’re going to have to endure. It took years but I won.” The whole time she was speaking Nikita had been inching closer, as if wanting to prove how unstoppable she was. By the time she had grown quiet the two women were mere inches from each other. Amanda, for her part, looked completely unperturbed, refusing to so much as flinch. And even after Nikita had finished and the silence permeated the room she didn’t respond, merely stood there with dark eyes that still seemed to absorb everything. Finally, Nikita sat back down and the two women passed the remaining 43 minutes in silence.

When there was a minute left on her watch, Nikita stood up. "Okay, tell me the location of the first box."  
"Charlotte, South Carolina," Amanda replied, surprisingly without any fight. Without another word Nikita turned to leave the room, the door to which was already being opened by an armed guard. She was almost out when she heard Amanda's voice behind her. "See you next year."


	2. Year 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita's Second Year of Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is nsfw. Warning, this is my first time actually writing smut, so I hope it's ok. If you'll drop a not I really do appreciate your feedback, to improve the quality of my sinning.

Nikita approached the room. It was a different one than she had visited last year. When she entered Amanda was sitting at a bare metal table. Nikita’s heart beat harder at the sight of her sitting there, free of the restraints that had bound her during their last meeting. She stopped walking, briefly considering running for a guard. This couldn’t be right. Just as she was about to bolt, Amanda held up her arms, revealing the handcuffs that bound them and the chains that similarly connected those to the table. She had a smug grin on her face, and Nikita knew that Amanda was fully aware of the temporary fear she had wracked her with. Nikita was equal parts embarrassed and annoyed, but covered it by continuing her walk into the room and taking a seat opposite Amanda. Last year Nikita had been hesitant, which allowed Amanda to gain the upper hand. This time she had learned her lesson, initiating the conversation immediately.  
“Charleston panned out.”  
“Of course it did. Do you think I have a reason to lie?”  
“Did you have a reason for any of the things you did?”  
Amanda sounded almost exasperated with the question. “Of course, Nikita. No matter what else you may think of me I am never needlessly or stupidly cruel.”  
“What about when you tried to make me kill Kathleen Spencer? When you threatened me with Michael’s life?” There was a catch in Nikita’s throat, but inside she was calm. She had had plenty of opportunities to make her peace with the pain of her past over the last couple of years.  
Amanda didn’t break eye contact when she replied, “Revenge is a reason.”  
“Revenge or jealousy?” Nikita wasn’t quite sure what she herself was trying to say yet, but she knew that it sounded right.  
“You think I was jealous of you? What, because you got to bed Michael? I’ll pass.”  
“No, I think you’re jealous of Michael because he got me. And I never loved you like that.”  
“You flatter yourself.” Amanda’s words were made less convincing by the snarl in the back of her throat, and uncharacteristic break in her veneer. “Do you honestly think you’re the only recruit I used?”  
“No, but I’m the only one you went so out of your way to bring down. You’d see me burn if that meant setting yourself on fire, too. And that’s not something you’d do for just anyone.”

 

__

It was five years ago. Nikita stood in front of the door in Division, her heart beating hard in her chest. She hadn’t expected to be called to Amanda’s Office. Their last meeting had gone fine, and they weren’t scheduled for another one for three more days. She had only been at Division for six months, but it was long enough to know that being summoned to Amanda out of term couldn’t end well. And she had just begun to settle in. Finally, Nikita let out a sigh and raised one hand to knock on the door.  
“Come in, Nikita.” Nikita didn’t want to, but she knew that Amanda was not someone that liked to be kept waiting. So she pushed her way into the room. Amanda was leaning back on a white love seat, her legs crossed elegantly and her arms draped across the back of the seat. Wordlessly she indicated the chair where all of the recruits sat. Nikita obeyed the silent command, taking it. They sat quietly for a moment. Amanda seemed to be waiting for her recruit to speak first, though Nikita couldn’t fathom why. Finally, she decided the best thing to do was just cut to the chase.  
“Can I ask why I’m here?” instead of givning a verbal answer Amanda pulled something out of the pocket of her dress and set it on the side table between them. When Nikita saw what it was her breath caught. Glaring up at her, her face reflected in the faux aluminum casing, were two condoms. “That’s not… it’s not…”  
“I know what they are, Nikita. And you know that relationships inside Division are strictly forbidden.”  
“I know that.”  
“Then how do you explain those?”  
“Well, I’m not interested in a relationship, first of all. It’s just-“  
“Just sex, Nikita? Really?” Nikita bit her lip, not sure how to answer. “Who is it?” Amanda waited another moment, but there was no reply. “You haven’t seen to have an interest in any of the recruits. Or the security. I haven’t met anyone yet who would go to this trouble to sleep with Birkhoff. Michael, on the other hand…” Something in Nikita’s face must have given way, because a triumphant light emerged behind Amanda’s eyes. “You want to seduce Michael?”  
Nikita raised her chin, exasperated bordering on angry. “Why shouldn’t I? We’re adults. You expect me to be able to handle killing- don’t think I don’t know that’s our purpose here- but not sex? I know the rules are to keep us from forming attachments, but I’ve been around long enough to know the difference between falling in love and fucking. ”  
“Well, if sex is all you’re looking for, I’m afraid Michael is not the best option.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Do you think you’re the first girl here with those ideas in your head? At least one from every class to pass through these doors has tried to sleep with Michael. But he has turned down every last proposal.”  
“But why?”  
Amanda shrugged. “Who knows why one would choose celibacy? But, Nikita…”Amanda seemed to change before Nikita’s eyes. One moment she was the elegant but cold teacher that everyone at Division was familiar with, the next she was leaning over, cleavage falling forward. She grinned in a way that was dangerous in its sensuality. “There are other options.”  
“What happened to ‘relationships are forbidden?”  
“What happened to ‘it’s just sex?” Amanda indicated the open spot on the loveseat, and Nikita obliged her by taking it.  
“What exactly are you proposing?” Nikita asked. Amanda’s body language made her intentions clear, but Nikita needed to be sure.  
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I took an… interest… in a recruit. If we started spending some extra time together, well, who would question it?” Amanda was leaning forward again, her face mere inches away from Nikita’s. She was undoubtedly sexy, beautiful even, and Nikita knew that she wanted to lean into this as well. But she also didn’t want to take any risks, anything that ruin her in Division.  
“What about Percy?” She asked, surprised by how breathy her voice was.  
Amanda grinned, undoubtedly amused by such a reaction from someone usually so hard.  
“Percy needs me. As such he was has learned to make certain… allowances for my hobbies.” Amanda looked into Nikita’s dark eyes, making sure that she understood. When Nikita nodded wordlessly that she did, Amanda didn’t hesitate to bridge the gap between them. Their mouths met in a whirlwind, tongues wrapping around each other without any preliminaries or baby steps. Amanda pulled at Nikita’s shirt. The simple tank slipped off easily. Amanda pushed Nikita back into the loveseat. Nikita leaned forward, trying to kiss her again but Amanda pushed her back down. “Stay,” she commanded. She moved so that she was straddling Nikita, her skirt bunching around her waist. It was hard to tell through her pants, but Nikita suspected she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Amanda tightened her grip with her legs, causing Nikita to groan. She reached up for Amanda’s blouse, but she stopped her, pinning her arms to the couch above her head. “One rule. You do not get to undress me. Not unless I say. Understand?” Nikita nodded. With one hand Amanda kept Nikita’s arms in place, and with the other she reached up and undid her own buttons. She made it purposefully slow, an excruciating and tantalizing show. While she did that she began to move her lower body, grinding against Nikita’s hips. Once her blouse had been discarded to the floor she leaned over, finally kissing her again. They kissed for several long seconds before Amanda moved her mouth, pressing kisses into Nikita’s jaw, her ear. She bit her ear, tugging at the lobe. When Nikita let out another moan Amanda couldn’t help but grinning. “I knew it,” she whispered into her ear. “You like to play rough.” With her free hand she grabbed at Nikita’s hair, tugging her head backwards. She moved her mouth down along Nikita’s throat, her kisses more teeth than lips. As she moved towards Nikita’s collarbone she moved her arms around Nikita’s torso. She began to kiss her left breast, circle around to the center. Her hands free, Nikita took her turn to grip Amanda’s hair, pressing her face harder against her with every kiss. With her own arms Amanda arched Nikita’s back up. When she got to the nipple in the center of the breast she licked it for a moment, then took it between her teeth like she had the earlobe. From the way that Nikita’s grip tightened even further Amanda knew it was driving her wild. She released, and proceeded to give the same treatment to the right breast. This time when she grabbed the nipple she pulled up just slightly, eliciting the smallest of screams from Nikita. Good. She needed to know this would be both pleasure and pain. Amanda suspected that she knew no other way anyhow. She kissed the spot between her breasts, then moved her mouth downward. When she reached Nikita’s hipbones she was already arching herself up into it. Amanda trailed her hands down, purposefully using her long nails to dig scratches into Nikita’s back, which only served to quicken the other woman’s breathing. She pressed her hand into the small of her back, making sure that Nikita was pressed as firmly against her as she could be. She held her there like that for a second, body pressed against her mouth, breathing onto her skin. Finally, she broke contact. Her hands moved to the elastic waistband of Nikita’s cargo pants. “Have you ever done this with a woman before?” Nikita shook her head. “Then I expect you to learn from this.” And she pulled the other woman’s pants down to her knees. She moved her head down to the parting of her legs and spread them. She kissed circles in her left thigh, moving upwards. And without warning she plunged into Nikita’s body. Nikita shook with such violence Amanda was surprised she wasn’t hurt. She dug one nail into the flat of her stomach, a not-so-gentle warning to settle down. Once she was satisfied Amanda continued, rotating her tongue methodically. Nikita kept raveling and unravelling her hands, unable to contain what she was feeling. Amanda knew it was building, until finally Nikita squirted. Amanda moved herself back up, lying on Nikita and wrapping her legs and arms around her like an anaconda. She pressed a few kisses and scrapes into her neck before breathing in her ear “Satisfied?” Unable to speak Nikita nodded ferociously. Herself content, Amanda untangled herself, stood up, and began righting her clothing. “Good. I expect you to be able to return the favor next time.” She practically threw Nikita’s shirt onto her. “Come on. No need to lie around.”  


“Well, your hour’s up.” Amanda’s voice brought Nikita back into focus, surprised that she had gotten so lost in the memory. Amanda smirked, as if she knew the effect she had had by dredging up their past. The grin infuriated Nikita, and she used it to firmly ground herself in her present.  
“Tell me where the next box is.”  
“Hotchkiss, Colorado.” Without a word Nikita got up and left. Behind her she could hear Amanda’s laughter. “See you again next year.”


	3. Year 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita is starting to get more comfortable with their visits, and relives more memories.

This time when Nikita went through security and entered the prison she was surprised and not entirely pleased to find that no tingle of fear and apprehension raced up her spine. She didn’t know if this was a sign that she no longer was afraid of Amanda, or if she didn’t hate these yearly meetings as much as she would let herself believe. Either way she straightened her shoulders as she entered the room, hoping for some leftover feeling of apprehension or wariness. Instead, when she saw Amanda, all the feelings she had remembered during their last meeting, and her legs almost collapsed.   
Almost as if she knew the effect that she had had a wry smile spread across Amanda’s features. Nikita’s jaw clenched when she tried to forget how that smile made her feel and took a seat across from her.   
“So, three years,” she stated. It felt strange to say out loud, to admit that they were still, somehow, a part of each other’s lives.   
“And here we are.” Amanda’s words echoed Nikita’s own thoughts, and she wondered if she was as surprised.   
“What surprises you more, that I keep coming back, or that you’re still alive?”  
“If you thought I couldn’t survive captivity you haven’t been paying attention.”   
“So it’s that I’m back here. even though I don’t have a choice.”  
“You have a choice, Nikita. Remember, I’m the one who taught you that.” Nikita had to admit, even if just to herself, that it was true. It hadn’t been Percy, or even Michael who had taught her about agency and choice. It had been Amanda. “You chose to play the hero.”  
“And you don’t think I should have?”   
“Do you care what I think?” Nikita shook her head, trying to clear it. Of course not. There had been a time when she had, though, and Nikita knew it. 

It was the day after Nikita had graduated to agent. Amanda had been there, of course, but so had Percy, and the two had to maintain some semblance of an illusion. So they had shaken hands, exchanged grins, and gone their separate ways. But now the spotlight was off her once again, and Nikita felt she could discreetly make her way to Amanda’s office for a little… celebration. If she hadn’t been so excited from graduation, high on her sudden freedom and filled with anticipation for the next few minutes, she would have stopped to listen before slipping through the door into Amanda’s office. In a way, it was Amanda’s own fault, for having trained Nikita so well in the arts of subtlety, that she didn’t hear the door open and close again. In another way, it was because she was distracted by the recruit who’s neck she was sucking on. Nikita let out an involuntary gasp and both Amanda and the recruit, a pretty redhead by the name of Chelsea, looked it up in shock, stark naked. Chelsea flushed red and started scrambling for her clothes, but Amanda just sat there. Her eyes locked with Nikita’s and in them Nikita could see nothing but her own face reflected, and hated the surprise and pain that was written there. Struggling to achieve a semblance of indifference she mumbled a “I’ll come back at another time” before quickly leaving the room.  
Nikita managed to make it down the hallway and duck into the first dark alcove she could find before the tears broke free. As they fell, hot and angry, she clenched a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out loud, a trick she had learned in foster care years ago. She didn’t even know why she was this upset. It had been made clear that there was nothing but sex between her and Amanda, a chance for them to release what they otherwise couldn’t, and break the rules a little. She had had not illusions of actual romance. And yet… the sound of clicking heels echoed off the steel and concrete of Division, and Nikita immediately knew who was approaching. She swiped at the tears, took a few deep breaths, and straightened her clothes before Amanda rounded the corner. Nikita shouldn’t have worried about looking presentable, since Amanda herself was as disheveled as Nikita had ever seen her. Her hair was loose and wild, and her clothing seemed to be one slip away from all falling off. The sight of it was no victory for Nikita, though, knowing what had caused the mess.   
“Listen, Nikita, I-”  
“You don’t need to explain.” Both of them seemed surprised by the slicing edge in Nikita’s tone when she cut Amanda off. She purposefully made her voice calmer when speaking again. “It’s fine. We’re adults. We’re having fun. No one said it had to be monogamous, right?”   
“Good. Because I didn’t come here to explain.” Amanda’s expression was unreadable, and Nikita new that she was going to make her ask.  
“Why did you come here, then? Why not just let me go?”   
“Because you’re still my student. I still care about your well-being.”  
“Bullshit.” But they had somehow been drawing closer during this conversation, and the word was barely out of Nikita’s mouth and Amanda was kissing her. Their bodies moved even closer, and Amanda started reaching towards the waistband of Nikita’s pants. But Nikita pushed her away, grabbing Amanda and slipping behind her to pin her facing the wall, as quick and strong as Division had taught her to be. She slipped one hand up Amada’s blouse, her fingers running over her breast, leaving a light trail of scratches. She grabbed the nipple, holding it between two fingers. She could hear Amanda gasp, as Nikita moved her hips to pin her tighter against the wall. She whispered into Amanda’s ear. Her voice was rough and she couldn’t tell if it was from the crying or from her own arousal. “You don’t get to fuck me, like you just fucked her.” She twisted the nipple as she said the words, and was satisfied by the small gasp that Amanda made. Her other hand crept up Amanda’s back, into her hair. She wove her fingers into it, tugging her head to the side. As she pressed her lips against Amanda’s exposed neck, her other hand moved from her breast, down over her stomach, over her waist, down between her legs, which spread obediently. Nikita let her hand move over her thighs, nails pressing into the skin in a way that might make someone else groan from pain, not pleasure like Amanda was. she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and at the thought of why that was, Nikita nipped at her neck harder than she really needed to. She knew that would leave a mark, and felt a twinge of victory. With that her fingers moved up, inside of Amanda. She found her clit, and lightly grazed the stem, eliciting another gasp. Nikita herself fought to remain unaffected, but as Amanda’s ass pressed tightly against her hips she found herself unable to control the heat rising between her legs. Her hand released Amanda’s hair, moving to the flat of her stomach, to press her closer. She continued to move the fingers inside, plucking at Amanda’s body like the strings on an instrument, until she finally came, slumping between Nikita and the wall at the end of it.   
It briefly occurred to Nikita what it would look like if someone were to walk by their little hiding place: Amanda, the Inquisitor, with her skirt bunched up around her waist, leaning back against a recruit, who’s hand was currently in her vagina. Thankfully, this was a secluded, quiet hallway. Still, she didn’t want to wait around to be found, or, even worse, to have to have a conversation about what had happened. Instead, she pulled herself away, straightening her own clothes and hair, before leaving Amanda in the alcove.   
On her way out of Division, she saw Michael, who stopped her to lend his congratulations. As he spoke she couldn’t stop staring at his lips, though she still felt Amanda’s body beneath her. Mostly, she was terrified that he would somehow read it on her face and know. Though she was a field agent now and confident that she was too much of an asset to cancel if anyone found out, she still didn’t want him to know for some reason. And, for the first time, she was a little embarrassed of what had happened. She excused herself before he had a chance to read it in her expression and left Division flushed, though she didn’t know if it was from the sex or from Michael. 

I “Where did your mind just go?” Amanda asked, though the smirk on her lips betrayed that she had her guesses. There was a time when that smirk would have driven Nikita wild, but now she just felt rage and disgust.   
“Don’t talk like we’re friends, or like we’re in love, just because we had sex. Don’t you dare. And tell me where the next box is.”


	4. Year 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita struggles with some news that culminates in a dangerous encounter.

The last time Nikita had visited Amanda she had been relatively calm, at least when she had arrived. This time she entered the prison room in a whirlwind, prepared to rage and fight.  
“How dare you?” she demanded without preamble. Amanda didn’t ask what Nikita was referring to. She didn’t say anything. It was that silence that told Nikita that she knew what this was about. It didn’t quiet her anger at all. “How dare you?!” She shouted this time, slamming the table between them.  
“Nikita-” But she didn’t let her finish.  
“I just came from the doctor and she told me what you did. You and Percy, you… you sterilized me.” The word felt wrong leaving her mouth, too cold and impersonal for the violation of her body that had occurred.  
“We did it to all the new recruits, after we figured out that Max was Michael’s child.”  
“You knew?” For just a second Nikita’s anger was deflected.  
“Of course we knew. Did you think nobody would be keeping track of the Ovechkins after we replaced the double? We knew precisely when Max was born, and what that meant. And we had to take… precautions to ensure that it wouldn’t happen again, that no one’s loyalty to Division would be tested the way that Michael’s would if he found out.”  
“Precautions? You call that precautions? You bitch.” It took all of Nikita’s self control to not fling herself across the table and attack Amanda. She thought of the past two years that they had spent trying to have a child, all the pregnancy tests she had taken to find nothing. Eventually she had surrendered and seen a doctor, without telling Michael. No need to worry him. She had gone in to get the results right before her yearly meeting with Amanda, and what the doctor had told her was still raw.  
“What would you have done in my shoes, Nikita? You know how our missions required short term relationships. Would you have children of Division agents wandering the earth, parentless? Would you have us force a termination every time someone got pregnant?”  
“Don’t try to justify this. Don’t you dare, or, I swear to God, I will kill you now. Black boxes or no.” Nikita herself didn’t even know if the threat was empty or not. All she could think about was how she was going to tell Michael, and the way that his face would crumble at the words. “This is going to kill him,” she whispered.  
“And you? How do you feel about it?” Amanda’s question gave Nikita pause. She had to admit that she was terrified at the prospect of being a mother. The closest she had ever gotten was Alex, and that had certainly seemed like a hopeless endeavor at times. But thinking of Alex made her realize.  
“Oh God. Alex. Does that mean…” Nikita couldn’t bring herself the ask the question, but Amanda’s expression was all the answer she needed. She would have to tell Alex. And Owen, Sonya, Birkhoff. But Alex. Nikita felt like her stomach had risen into her throat, like she was going to be sick. She had allowed Alex to go undercover in Division. She had done this to her. Suddenly the room was spinning and the prospect of throwing up was no longer hypothetical. Without a word she rushed from the room.  
“Bathroom,” she managed to gasp out, clutching at the first guard she saw. Clearly unnerved, he directed her to a door down the hall and she took off running towards it.  
“Are you alright?” He called after her.  
Nikita didn’t answer. She barely made it through the door and to the toilet before throwing up violently. When she finally felt like there was nothing left inside her she leaned back against the bathroom wall. She knew she should pull herself together, get to her feet,and go back in that room. But she couldn’t. Because even after she had thrown up everything the guilt remained. What Amanda and Percy had done to her filled her with rage. But what had been done to Alex, what this was going to do to Michael, that was on her. And she wasn’t sure, after everything she had done in her life, that this was something she could live with.  
She was still sitting on the bathroom floor when, nearly an hour later, Michael entered the small room.  
“Nikita,” he gasped. “They called me and said that I needed to get over here. They said that you locked yourself in here and maybe you were sick.” There was concern in his voice, of course, but there was also a glimmer of hope in his eyes. When Nikita realized that he thought maybe she was suffering from morning sickness after all she couldn’t hold back tears that she hadn’t even known had been building up inside her. All traces of the potential hope were erased from Michael’s features as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. Together they huddled on the tile floor as Nikita choked out what she had learned earlier that day, what it meant for their future. When she was done her sobs had quieted to a few remaining tears. Michael was silent for several minutes, and Nikita thought that it was out of sympathy, or perhaps grief. When she pulled away to see his face, though, it was filled with a shining rage that she had only seen once before: when she had stopped him from throwing his life away to kill Kaseem.  
“Michael-” she started, scared of what he might do. But he was already moving, gently but firmly shifting her weight to lean against the wall.  
“Just stay here. Rest. I’ll be back.” But she knew that he wouldn’t, not with that expression on his face.  
“Michael, whatever you’re going to do, don’t.” She was suddenly tired, too tired and heartbroken to fight anymore. But he wasn’t listening to her. Without saying anything else he shoved himself up and out of the bathroom. Gathering her strength Nikita forced herself to her feet to follow him. He was barrelling down the hallway, an unstoppable force of rage. A guard standing outside Amanda’s room sensed his brooding danger and tried to stop him, but he shoved past without a second thought. Nikita rounded the corner into the room just in time to see Michael grab Amanda from her seat and shove her against the nearest wall. His hands went to her throat, a twitch away from tightening. “Michael!” Nikita screamed. “Stop it!” But he didn’t seem to hear her, his entire attention focused on Amanda.  
“You. You took everything.” Amanda looked like she wanted to respond but as soon as she opened her mouth Michael’s fist began to tighten. A rare look of fear flashed in Amanda’s eyes. Where were the guards? Maybe they were still coming, maybe they didn’t want to stop this from happening. Nikita had to admit that there was a part of her that enjoyed seeing this, the way that she had enjoyed beating Nicholas Brandt all those years ago. That part of her that she admitted to existing only in the darkness of his basement would feel her womb that would be empty her whole life, and be glad to see Michael choke the life out of Amanda. But she knew that if it were her about to commit murder out of blind rage Michael would stop her, the way that he had tried to stop her from killing the members of the Group. And she knew that she had to do the same for him. She stepped up in front of him, breaking his view of Amanda.  
“Michael. Let her go. Please.” Nikita could see the battle happening inside him, written across his face. She could see that he wanted to kill Amanda right there, not even for himself but for her, Nikita, and for what had been taken from her. But here she was, asking him, begging him to stop.  
“Why?” The word was hardly louder than a whisper.  
“Because, this isn’t you. You’re the good one of us, the one true, good man. And I need you to be that. I can’t get through this if you’re not.” She could see the breaking in his eyes, that he loved her and that it was because of that because he released Amanda’s throat. In one swift motion his hand was gone and Amanda had crumpled to the ground, clutching at her own throat and gasping for air. When Michael turned away from her and faced Nikita the fires of rage in his eyes and died down to embers, and her heart swelled with love and gratitude for him.  
She wanted to go home, to be alone with the man she loved as they tried to figure out their future. But there was still one more thing that had been done. She turned back to Amanda, still lying on the floor like a discarded doll.  
“Tell me where the box is.” Amanda looked like she wanted to argue, but before she could Nikita spoke again. “Tell me where it is or I will let him kill you.” She couldn’t even tell herself if the threat was real. Thankfully, she didn’t have to test it, because Amanda choked out. “Nevada. Right outside Las Vegas.” Satisfied, Nikita grabbed Michael by the arm and together they left the room.


	5. Gap Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita needs a break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, drug/alcohol abuse in this chapter. Also, this one's a bit longer.

Nikita and Michael had returned to home in silence. When Michael stopped the car outside of the small suburban house they had bought to raise a child in Nikita found that she couldn’t move. She wanted to. Her mind screamed at her legs to carry her forward, but they were numb, as if her body was determined to betray her once again. Michael was talking to her, trying to convince her to get out of the car. Still, she couldn’t. Then his face was in front of her. There must have been some sort of pain in her eyes, because he stopped short. He sighed before wrapping his arms around here.   
“Okay, here we go.” He lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the house. If she had been herself in that moment she would have objected.   
“What am I?” she would have teased, “a child?” But this wasn’t any other time, and she wasn’t herself. Instead, she didn’t move a muscle as Michael carried her through the door, to their room, and gently set her on the bed. She instinctively curled around herself, turning her back to Michael and the door, but otherwise not moving.   
“Nikita?” Michael tried, one last time. But she didn’t respond, didn’t do anything but stare at the wall ahead. He sighed. “Alright.” He took a blanket from the foot of the bed and tucked her into it, placing one last kiss on her forehead before leaving the room.   
That whole week Nikita hardly moved. She didn’t speak more than a handful of words and only ate what Michael would bring her. Michael wouldn’t admit it, but it was scaring him. He had never seen her like this before. Hopeless, terrified, howling with pain and rage, sure. bit ever this, this broken numbness. He couldn’t comprehend it; what it might mean for the strongest person he knew to be so decimated.   
When Sunday rolled around Michael sat next to her on the bed. He had stayed home with her for a week. Earlier that year he had gotten a job teaching gym at a local high school, and for five days he called in every favor he could to get a sub. Eventually, though, he knew he needed to go back, as much, he hated to admit it, for his sake as for his students’. He needed to get out of that house, before her grief destroyed him.   
“Nikita,” he said gently, “I’m going back to work tomorrow.” She didn’t respond. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m going to call Alex, see if she can come-” At these words Nikita rolled over to face him. The expression on her face was pain, or maybe guilt. Either way, it was the first emotion she had displayed in days.   
“Don’t,” the word was hardly a whisper, never mind a command. Still, it stopped Michael short.   
“Nikita.”   
“Please don’t.” Then Nikita did something unexpected: she sat up and gave a slight smile. “I’ll be alright alone.”   
“Nikita you went through a trauma. You shouldn’t be alone.”   
“I promise I’ll be fine. I can’t…I can’t face her right now.” Her smile dropped when she said that and she looked down at her hands. “Besides,” and the slight smile was back, but this time with no joy or mirth in it. “Trauma is kind of my middle name.”   
“That doesn’t mean you have to go through it by yourself. Listen, you don’t want to talk to Alex, fine. But let me call Birkhoff, or Owen, or someone.”  
“Listen, Michael, anyone from Division will be affected by this. Nerd and Sonya, Owen and Alex, they’re all connected, and there’s nothing I can do to stop that. I know I’ll have to tell them, I just… I need time. I need to be able to think.” Michael wanted to argue still, but he knew that her mind was made up. Besides, with that glimmer in her eye and the promise of at least working on a plan she was starting to look a little like the Nikita he knew. So he conceded with a nod.  
“Okay, I’ll give you space. And I’ll make sure everyone ese does the same. But the second you need help, I’ll be right here. I swear.” But Nikita had already rolled back over and didn’t seem to be listening. With a sigh he turned off the lights and lay besides her. 

The first few days that Michael was gone Nikita passed like normal. The fourth day she got out of bed and wondered down the hall to the kitchen. On the way she passed a closed door to a bedroom. It was going to be their child’s room. She touched the door lightly but kept walking. Once in the kitchen she opened the fridge. She had barely eaten in days and she had come into the room with the plan of getting food. But instead a six pack of beers that Michael kept caught her eye. She knew she should shut the refrigerator door and walk away. But still she grabbed one of the cans of beer, popped open the tab, and drank it in a couple of gulps. She had never really liked beer, thought it tasted like piss and loneliness. But it was all they had in the house, and she needed a drink. Like magic another beer was in her hand, then another. After the last can was open in her hand she closed the fridge door and walked away. More accurately, she stumbled away, clinging to the walls to help her down the hallway. At the still closed door to the empty bedroom she paused. The doorknob was cool beneath her hand and as she opened the door a sliver of light from the hall shown into the otherwise dark room. Through the dimness she could make out the outline of the crib they had bought as a pitiful effort to keep their hopes up. When she saw the crib, Nikita rushed towards it, as best she could, grabbing at the wooden bars. Taking the gate in both hands, she tore at it, wrenching it from the hinges. It fell to the ground with a clank and she fell upon the rest of crib with nails and muscle. It had been years since she had attacked something with such fervor, had felt the blood in her veins sing with rage as she had one goal: destruction. Pieces fell down upon her, and she kept tearing at the structure. Once the whole thing lay in broken bits around her she collapsed to the floor. The nearly empty beer car crumpled beneath one of her knees, and the last remnants of alcohol soaked through her pants.   
Nikita wasn’t sure how long she sat there, alone among the remnants of the crib that had held her dreams. But eventually it occurred to her through the alcoholic haze that Michael would be home soon, and that if he saw her like this he would be concerned. And she didn’t want to hurt him anymore. So she forced herself to her feet. When she stood the room spun, and she had to rush headfirst to the bathroom to throw up. When she was done and had cleaned up she felt well enough she shakily stood up. She was still tipsy, but feeling better. She walked down the hall, closing the door to the empty bedroom on her way.   
When Michael came home he found her laying on the bed the same as when he had left, and if he smelt the alcohol on her bed, or noticed the decimated crib or missing six pack, he said nothing.

The next day, for the first time in a long time, Nikita woke up feeling something: need. She needed a drink. Or a hit. Or something. The point was that she needed something. And that gave her hope. So by the time Michael was leaving for work she was getting dressed to go out. He stopped when he saw her, a tentative smile lighting up his face.   
“You’re awake. Aaaand, you’re going somewhere.” Nikita forced herself to grin in response.   
“Yeah. Just need some fresh air.” What she really needed was that dink. Now.   
“Good. I’ll see you tonight, then?” Nikita nodded her head.  
“Yeah, sure.” She got dressed. On her way out the door Michael dropped a quick kiss on her lips, and then she was gone. It took her maybe ten minutes to find a corner liquor store. The man behind the counter raised his eyebrows at someone coming in so early, but sold her a bottle of vodka anyways. She was barely out of the store before she had popped off the lid and took a long swig. It burnt a little going down, but it was good. Unsure what else to do but not wanting to return to that house with the broken crib she chose a direction and started walking.   
By the time the bottle was half empty Nikita was just aware enough of her surroundings to realize that she had wondered into what passed for a bad part of town around there. Compared to the streets of Detroit it was nothing. Still one thought ran through the fog that was settling over her brain: maybe she could score. It had been years since she had even felt the desire to do drugs. But during those years she had been Nikita: she had been capable and brave. More importantly, she had had a mission. Now she had nothing. That emptiness needed to be filled.   
Standing on a corner was a man in a bulky windbreaker. Even though it had been years Nikita could recognize the signs: the way his jacket bulged, the low baseball cap, the shuffling of feet. And of course the way he handed another man walking by a small baggy. He was probably packing a gun, but Nikita didn’t care. She swaggered up to the man.   
“Hey, buddy, I want to buy something.” The man glanced her way, irritated.   
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. ‘sides aren’t you a little far from home?” Nikita vaguely remembered that her clothes, her hair, everything about her appearance screamed middle class suburban wife. The irony was too much, and so she burst into a harsh laugh. The man just looked like she was slightly unhinged. Maybe she was.   
“Kid, I was doing coke before you were alive. Now I need a hit, so give me something before I take it from you.”   
Something in the woman’s eyes must have spoken to the things she had seen and done, because the young drug dealer pulled away, visibly shaken.  
“Okay, lady. I’ll get you the drugs. What do you want?” Nikita’s grin was wide enough to be eerie.   
“Ketamine. K all the way.”  
When Nikita didn’t go home that night Michael called Alex, Birkhoff, all of their old friends. They all came rushing to their home, even though none of them had any ideas where she could be. After all, all of their enemies were dead or captured. Who could have taken her? They called every resource they knew, but by the third day all of their leads were dead. Michael was pacing the living room, growing increasingly irritable, and Alex had just reminded him for maybe the 500th time that perhaps Nikita just needed her space when the phone rang. Michael was across the room in a flash, the receiver pressed to his ear.  
“Yes?” He listened for a second before, voice cracking he asked. “Nikita, what’s wrong? You’re where?” He pulled the receiver away long enough to let loose a string of curses under his breath. “Okay, just sit there and stay quiet. I’m going to come get you.” Alex was already at his side when he had hung up, her expression earnest.  
“Where is she?” Michael sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face before answering.   
“Jail.” 

Nikita was still high as a kite when Michaele brought her home. Alex, Owen, Birkhoff, and Sonya were sitting at the table in the kitchen, all their eyes trained on the front door. When it opened they practically leapt to their feet. Nikita’s expression was glazed over and spaced out, but when she saw them a ridiculous grin split her face.   
“Look at that,” she said in a sunny voice. “Everyone’s here. All my friends.” She frowned. Everyone was there except for someone. Someone who had died a long time ago. Oh, well, she couldn’t remember now.   
“Niki…” Birkhoff started tentatively.   
“Nerd!” Nikita practically squealed, running to envelop him in a hug. But before she could make it across the room she tripped, and Owen just barely caught her before she tumbled onto the tile floor.   
“Woah there.”   
Michael was acutely aware of their flabbergasted stares. Of course, none of them had known what Nikita was like when she had started at Division, when she was still a strung out drug addict. They had never seen this side of her.   
“Guys, do you mind giving us a moment?” They all nodded, leaving the room as quickly as they could without being obvious. Owen sat her down in a kitchen chair before leaving. Only Alex lingered. Her eyes questioned Michael to which he said “We’ll be fine.” She nodded before finally stepping outside with the rest of them. As soon as they were gone Michael turned on Nikita.  
“What the hell?” He hissed out. “I was worried sick. We were all worried.”  
“You shouldn’t worry,” Nikita giggled out, practically falling out of her seat. “I just had to go get lost for a while.”  
“Get lost? For God’s sake, Nikita, you’re an adult. We’re married. Did you think what you were doing to me?” Nikita’s smile fell.  
“Yeah, Michael. I hurt you, because I can’t have a baby. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” But Michael was exhausted from days of staying awake worrying, and exasperated, and the mention of Nikita’s infertility was enough to push him over the edge into anger.   
“No, don’t you do that. I gave you space, I thought you were mourning and you needed it. Guess what? I was mourning, too. I lost everything, too. I lost everything and I dealt with it.”  
“Well good for you, Michael,” Nikita answered in a mocking tone. She was starting to come off of the high and her head hurt and his yelling wasn’t helping. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t deal with it. I’m not as good as you. So sue me.”  
“Stop calling me good. It’s not about being good, Nikita. It’s about being there for each other, about being a team. You’re so used to being alone you won’t let anyone in. You just go out and do stupid shit. And here you are, self destructing again. You know what? You want to go be alone so much, fine.”   
“What?” By now her head was pounding, and she couldn’t wrap her mind around what he was saying.  
“I’m done, Nikita. You keep pushing me away, so I’m taking a hint and leaving.”   
“Mich-” but he was already grabbing his keys from the table and slamming out the front door.   
As soon as he was on the road a pang of guilt wracked Michael, not enough to make him turn around, but enough to make him call Alex and ask her to stay with Nikita for as long as she could. She agreed, sitting by Nikita’s side as she curled up on the bed, coming down hard. Alex couldn’t say which hurt more, when she had to hold down a screaming and fighting Nikita, shoving a pillow into her mouth to stop the neighbors from hearing and calling the police, or, hours later, when Nikita was curled up, crying and whimpering, clutching her head from pain.  
Alex hated how helpless she felt, how all she could do was stroke Nikita’s hair and assure her that it would be better soon. She remembered when she had been getting sober, how Nikita had done the same for her. She had never expected to return the favor.   
When the rising sun was starting to shine into the room Nikita finally fell into a fitful sleep, but even there she was plagued by nightmares. In those dreams she was back in Nicholas Brandt’s basement, chained to that horrendous metal frame. Pain surged through her, like it had then. But this time the pain centered, all running down her body to her empty womb, an angry hot ball in her abdomen. Her body wanted to double over, but the restraints held. When she was able to look up she saw that it wasn’t Brandt pushing the button at all, but Amanda.   
“This is for your own good, Nikita.” She said as she pressed the button again. When she looked up again Michael was tied to that chair in front of her. And suddenly the electricity that was coursing through her body wasn’t hurting her, but it was killing him.   
Nikita woke up gasping for breath. Alex was by her side, wrapping her in her arms and making comforting shushing sounds. As Nikita let herself melt into Alex’s arms she thought she might cry, except that she couldn’t. She felt empty, like the dream and the drugs had scooped out her insides. But this wasn’t the self destructive emptiness that had kept her in bed for days or driven her to drink. Honestly, the emptiness felt healing, like something sick had been purged from her body. For the first time in days she was able to think straight. But she didn’t want to. Because with her newfound clarity she knew that she had to tell Alex the truth. Kind Alex, Alex who was busy being Alexandra Udinov but had still dropped everything when she had heard that Nikita was in trouble. And now Nikita had to tell her what she had done. Nikita gave her one last squeeze before pulling away, knowing that she would miss the comfort of her arms when she did so.   
When Alex saw Nikita’s face her own eyes clouded with concern.   
“Nikita, what’s wrong. What happened to you?” Nikita took a deep breath before telling her about the infertility, about how she felt guilty for not being able to give Michael a child and relieved because she had been scared to be a mother, and guilty for feeling relieved. At the end of that she hesitated, unsure how to tell Alex that she was affected to. But she didn’t have to, because Alex’s expression showed that she understood. “So, I…” Nikita nodded.  
“I am so sorry. It’s my fault. I sent you there.” Alex looked a bomb had been dropped on her, but she straightened out her shocked expression as much as she could at Nikita’s words.  
“No, it’s not your fault. I knew there were risks. I just…It’s too bad Percy and Amanda are out of the picture, because I’d like to take them down all over again.” Nikita couldn’t help a slight grin at the idea of Alex’s righteous anger, directed at someone besides her.   
“You’d have to get in line. Michael... “ she trailed off, her face falling. “God, Michael must hate me.”  
“He doesn’t hate you, Nikita. He couldn’t. Even when you ran away from us, he never hated you. And if he could come around then he’ll come around now. Just give him some time, okay?” Nikita nodded.   
Alex was right. It took three weeks, but eventually Michael called. It was the middle of the night, and Nikita had just begun sleeping again. At the sound of the ringing phone, though, she jolted awake.  
“Hello?” she asked blearily into the phone. Next to her in bed Alex was already reaching for a gun she kept on the nightstand, though what she planned to do with it over a phone call was beyond either of them.   
“Hello, Nikita?” At the sound of the voice on the other line Nikita breathed a sigh of relief, just as her heart started pounding harder.  
“Michael?” Hearing his name Alex put the gun down. “Where are you?”   
“Arizona. I’ve been out in the desert. I just needed some space.”  
“Michael, I am so sorry. I just didn’t know how…”  
“Nikita, listen to me. I forgive you. You were broken and you were lost. But we’ll be okay now. I love you, Nikita.” Her breath caught at the words, and tears began to streak out of Nikita’s eyes.   
“I love you, too,” she choked out.  
“So… does that mean I can come home?” Nikita nodded, before remembering that he couldn’t see her.   
“Yeah… please.” After they hung up it only took him a day to get back there. Nikita greeted him on the front lawn, and they ran into each other’s arms, embracing and kissing in a whirlwind. Alex stood in the doorway of the house, her own heart swelling at the sight. She was happy to see the two back together again, too happy to tell Nikita that after she had been told the news about her infertility she had shut herself in the bathroom and cried for an hour, or that she had wanted nothing more than to be able to run to Owen’s embrace. After all, Nikita had saved her countless times over the years. How could she not do the same? Still, she was secretly relieved when Michael and Nikita were reunited, and she could go home.   
Even though her relationship had been mended, Nikita needed the whole year to recover from what had happened. So when the car came to pick her up for her meeting with Amanda she sent it away, promising a meeting next year, and threatening the driver when he still hesitated.


End file.
